What would we do without spam?

By Joe Barnhart - 10/17/2007

With all the war, destruction, and lawyers in the world, doesn’t it tickle your funny bone knowing you have anonymous friends in the e-mail business?

Diligent creators with divergent ethnicities sitting in dingy basements sending e-mails with subjects like, “Cleanse Your Colon of Excess Weight.” Some paranoids call it spam, but I know the difference between Spam and opportunity.

Mom tried Spam on me a few times, embedded in scrambled eggs or oatmeal. I wasn’t taken in by her marketing hype, having seen a yellowish jelly substance ooze out of a freshly opened can. Her credibility was already toast since the time she snuck re-hydrated dried milk into a “regular” milk carton. Hey, I wasn’t born yesterday!

So how did Spam, the meat understudy, become spam, the e-mail curse? I read in Wikipedia that it was a Monty Python sketch, set in a cafe where the server recites the Spam-filled menu but is “spammed” out by a chorus of Viking-attired patrons repeating a joyous Spam song. Then again, it could be hundreds of spam messages a day that stimulate people’s imagination about loosely formed “chopped pork shoulder” chunks floating around in partially cooked egg yokes.

Who knows?!

I love getting e-mail, even if it is spam. While my wife would blush at a few and others aren’t exactly bonafide, still my heart goes out to these thoughtful, hardworking folks. Here’s just a partial list of uplifting offers I struggle to ignore: my sexuality quotient assessment; adult dating; enhancements, enlargements, and extensions; endearments from desperate “would be” brides living in exotic places like Omsk, Russia.

I appreciate the sincerity of guys like Donald Kaberuka of the Africa Development Bank — a nice man who wanted to immediately fire off to me $10 million after I sent the Rev. Kampson Lars (probably a fundamentalist) my direct phone and social security numbers, and mailing address. Don’s liquidators were working around the clock to get money to deserving folks like myself. Can you believe that?! We’re talking about $10 million just for making a lousy phone call. Way easier than buying lottery tickets.

The Hip Hop ABS crew’s e-mail told me I could dance my way to hot, sexy abs and burn fat off my entire body with Shaun T’s exciting new dance program. The “Tilt, Tuck & Tighten” video would show me how — even if I can’t dance — which, of course, I can’t.

Really, how can you call this stuff spam? It’s all about a getting the things you want right now, including a healthier you. HealthCheck’s e-mail offer kindly told me, “You can flush up to 20 pounds with a free trial offer of our herbal colon cleanse!” Heck, Ex-lax brownies can’t come close to releasing 20 pounds.

Of course, there are e-mails just looking out for my well-being. Afuertes sent me a little note the other day (I’m fairly certain I’ve never met this person) warning me that, “LMAO, i cant believe you put this video online. Everyone can see your face there. this is not good. If this video gets to her husband your both dead.” I guess he was confusing me with one of his other friends because I clicked on the link and didn’t see a soul I knew.

Sure, I know the rules to avoid spam: Only open e-mail from people you know. Never open an attachment you’re not expecting. Don’t click on Web site links or e-mail personal information.

But being legalistic just spoils all the fun. I’ll be back checking my e-mail as soon as I can figure out the bogus charges on my credit card, convince the FBI that I don’t even know what opium is, and get these bloody pop-ups off my computer.

— Joe Barnhart is a freelance humorist from Dillon, and he can be e-mailed at lifestooserious@gmail.com. More of his light-hearted take on the world can be found at www.lifestooserious.com.